After a wander around the DEC exhibition at the town hall (see this month’s other story), my fellow tech veteran G and I decided that a hearty local lunch was called for. Being at the top of marketplace it was either that rather strange but hugely popular Korean place confusingly called The Bap, or Tasty Greek Souvlaki.

Out of the two, on a lovely sunny day there was the sole option for alfresco dining, so we plonked ourselves on the somewhat uncomfortable metal chairs on the small 'terrace' outside of the only Greek restaurant in central Reading since the departure of 'The Real Greek' on Oracle Riverside, and ordered mixed starters and, yes, dear reader, a half bottle of Retsina.

G had never imbibed this rather unique drink before, living in the higher echelons of a tech corporation, so it had to be done. For those of you who remain uninitiated, Retsina is basically white wine flavoured with Aleppo pine resin that comes from the vineyards of central Greece. Yes, resin, from trees - and it's an ancient practice going back millennia. 

It has to be said that it is both an acquired taste and probably not something to drink without plates of Greek food in front of you.

Back in my student days, utter luxury used to be a pot of hummus, a pot of taramasalata, some pitta bread and a bottle or Retsina. After all, students can turn anything into a party and those savoury days were quickly brought back to mind as the starters arrived.

The three dips - tzatziki, hummus and a feta dip with salted flatbreads were exceptional, and along with the sappy wine had G cooing and wondering why it had taken him nearly sixty years to enjoy such delights. The dips really are worth a visit on their own and I was a smidge disappointed that the fishy tarama roe had not been part of the mixed starters. Next time I will add it on the side. These were a marathon run away from those make-do bland pots you buy in supermarkets.

He had just come back from Cairo, where the food is always excellent (even if a bit more complicated during Ramadan), I admonished him on missing out on the best falafels in the world at the wonderful Felfellas, an Egyptian institution.

The hard truth is that in this end of the Med the food is similar if you are Druze, Turkish, Israeli, Syrian, Kurdish Greek or Egyptian. It is a region sadly divided by so much, but united by its shared cuisine.

It is ironic that nations that deeply share the same culinary culture find so many other ways of fracturing and hurting themselves and each other.

In ancient Wales quarrels used to be settled by poetry, not war. I do wish we could do the same with felafel, hummus or kebab in the cradle of humanity instead of endless war.

But politics and food do not mix and the tastes on my palette took me back to the calmer water of the Aegean Sea, and if I closed my eyes and cut out the noise of the endless buses through Marketplace, taste alone could teleport me to that heaven.

The food at Tasty Greek could win them back Smyrnia, but let me dial back on the historical rhetoric because when you open your eyes again, this is Reading in the spring sunshine, with queues of enthusiastic office workers outside for wrapped gyros and the peddlers of Uber, Just Eat and Deliveroo coming and going. It is busy and would benefit from bigger premises (which, I hear, may be on the cards).

This is a family restaurant where every member of staff is familiar, knows the regulars, and really cares about what you think about your food. It strides the gap between fast food and a local restaurant well.

For the main course we went typically OTT and ordered the mixed soulvaki (cubes of grilled meat) and mixed gyros (kebabs on spits). So, lamb, chicken and pork served two ways with some more tzatziki, a small salad, some rather nice chips and yet more pitta.

The meat was exemplary, very well seasoned and still succulent with a deep taste. The lamb shish was particularly delicious, and I will forever be very partial to chicken gyros.

At this point you can start to play parochial games and compare Greek and Turkish restaurants. 

Eating in those countries, and at the risk of causing a major international political incident of the type I have just criticised, I would argue that you will always eat better in Turkey, by some distance. But here in Reading I reckon it is a 3-3 draw between Tasty Greek and Yaprak up in Woodley. Both leave takeaway champions such as Kings Kebab, Marmaris and Bakery House in the shade, I would say.

We managed to consume around three quarters of our mains. The food did get cold and rather less appetising quickly since we were in the breezy April shade and talking too much, as we always do. But there was not enough left over to justify a doggy bag. Still, we were admonished by our very lovely waitress for not completely clearing our plates: it reminded me of the admonishment I had once received in a farmhouse near Thesalonika from a Greek grandma for not finishing her kleftiko.

By now we were on our second half bottle of Retsina, so apologised profusely, but not without thanking her for a truly lovely meal, leaving a healthy tip and heading over onto that brilliant new corral placed by O’Neils outside the town hall for a debrief drink in the sun.

I'm not surprised that Tasty Greek is looking for bigger premises – perhaps the now sadly redundant Munchies on the other side of Marketplace? With plate smashing and ouzo parties upstairs and hefty plates of kleftiko and stifado on cold winter evenings...

It is a caring restaurant, closely family run with pride and utterly delicious food, but much of Reading seems to have discovered this already.

Personally, I hope that their new venue has a sunny terrace. And a separate door for takeaways.